


Sons of Rome

by sailorgreywolf



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Family Drama, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25711228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorgreywolf/pseuds/sailorgreywolf
Summary: Two of Rome's sons recount their family tree, and the many relationships that their father had. They also reflect on their own relationship with his legacy.These were originally oneshots accompanied by aesthetics on my Tumblr.
Relationships: Ancient Greece/Rome (Hetalia), England/Portugal (Hetalia), Prussia/Romania (Hetalia), Rome (Hetalia) & Original Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	Sons of Rome

“My king is putting aside his wife. They say he already has another in mind.” England said it like a man trying not to sound frustrated. But it was clear to Portugal that he was. He had known the man long enough to see the feelings in his face. 

Only after a dinner and light conversation had it finally come spilling out, as England got comfortable enough. 

  
He asked, watching closely for a reaction, “How many is this now?” England let out a very long sigh and said, “This is the fifth. That is not the worst part.”

  
He swallowed hard, like the most unpleasant truth was just on the tip of his tongue. Portugal prodded him gently, “What is worse?” England ran one of his hands over his face, before finally saying, “I have met the lady, and she is only seventeen. She is practically a child.”

  
He looked pale and ill, like the concept of taking a teenager to bed was sickening him. Portugal said, offhandedly, “He sounds like my father.” 

  
The blonde raised one eyebrow and said, “What do you mean?” Portugal picked up one of mostly empty wine glasses from the table and drained the dregs from it.   
Then he said, “Have you ever questioned how he had so many sons? Or what happened to the women he bedded.”

  
He heard the sharp sting of bitterness in his voice. It was always there when he discussed Rome. But, it was safe to show it with England. The blonde shook his head, “My mother said he was an immoral tyrant, and I never thought more about it.”   
  
Portugal put down the glass, which was now empty. He chewed on his own lower lip for a moment before he said, “Would you like to hear the story?”   
  
England seemed to hesitate for a moment, like he was questioning whether it would be asking Portugal to recount pain. He knew him well enough to know that Rome was a sore subject. But, he felt like turning down the offer would be rude.  
  
But, he finally nodded. Portugal shifted in his chair and said, “This is what I know from what I’ve found of him:  
When he was young, they say he loved Ancient Greece. I have found some of the poems that he wrote for her, and he claimed it was the truest love he ever felt.   
I can’t know if that was ever true.   
  
Perhaps he did love her when they were married, or perhaps he did it for power. His life seemed to be a quest to always have more.   
  
Greece gave him an heir. From what I can tell, Byzantium was the first son he ever had. He was elated to have a son, and celebrated it for the world to know. But, celebrations were always followed with restlessness for him. Once he got what he wanted, then he had to find something new to conquer.  
  
No one knows when he first met my mother, Carthage. But I think he began to stray when he had a legitimate successor. He never wrote her beautiful poems, or gave her lavish gifts. I remember he would visit for a few days at a time, but keep to himself. He arrived and left without ceremony, rarely even asking to see me. There was no celebration for me or for Tony, or ever any acknowledgment that we existed.  
  
After Tony was born, they started fighting. I remembered hearing the yelling through the walls. Though I never heard what they said clearly, I imagine she wanted him to acknowledge Tony and me as more than just bastards. It is what any mother would do for her sons.   
  
She deserved better than him. She ruled the sea, and rode elephants to battle. Her intelligence and skill was unmatched, even if he thought he was the kind of the world.   
  
She was too strong-willed for him, and he knew it. If he had married her, he would have been unable to control her. He couldn’t do that when she was just a mistress.   
  
I know that Ancient Greece left him, and I imagine that she found out that he had two other children. That must not have rested well with her, and worried her about the position of her son. His absences would be enough for anyone to hope for better.  
  
I do not know when Heracles was born, or who his father was. If he Is Rome’s son, then he wasn’t cursed with our father’s looks, or his temper.  
  
The fighting between my mother and Rome just got worse, and my mother sent us away before it came to war between them. I remember her hugging us both before putting us on a boat set on a course for Iberia. It was the last time I saw her.   
  
I know in my heart that she protected us from him. He was a pitiless man who killed her for insisting that Tony and I were given what we should have been. He did not want his heir to have to compete.  
  
Now we will always be known as Rome’s bastards, and I know Tony resents that. I made peace with it years ago.   
  
What could you expect from a man who murdered his twin brother? What could we really believe he would give us?”  
  
He paused for a moment and then looked at England and said, “This is where it becomes relevant.”  
  
England thought he heard pain when Portugal recounted Carthage’s fate. But, he dared not ask his friend. It was too much to push for more vulnerability, when what he was being given was already a gift.  
  
Portugal continued, “With only one legitimate son, and an expanding empire, he decided that he needed more. Perhaps he began to understand that he was mortal, even with our long lives. No empire lasts forever.  
  
He found a new bride named Veneti. I have heard that she was seventeen when he married her. I supposed he tired of strong women, and chose one he could dominate.   
  
She bore him twins, who he swore were the spitting image of him and Remus. He thought it showed that the gods favored him, even when his empire started to wane. That’s when he chose Feliciano as his heir, even over Byzantium. He saw himself reborn and thought it was fate.  
  
Ironic, don’t you think? He disinherited his eldest in secret, and still expected to be welcomed in Constantinople when he fled from Germania. He chose to vanish rather than face his end.   
He thought as his sons we all needed to prove ourselves to him when he never proved himself capable of being a father. I would rather be my mother’s son than any child of his.”  
Then he drew in a breath and stopped talking. England felt like this was the end of the story, and he would not pry.   
  
He tried to change the subject back to the present, to prevent Portugal from delving too deeply into his feelings about his father. He said, “What do you think this all means for Henry? Rome’s empire fell to pieces after he died. I hope that will not happen to me.”   
  
Portugal leaned forward onto his elbows and said, “It means that his most competent heir will be the last one he expects, and it may very well be the one that he refuses to acknowledge.”   
  
————————————  
Prussia was sitting on a comfortable couch in a sitting room in Bucharest. He had been in this city quite a few times, but they had never been like this one. He swirled the dark red wine in his glass, and looked up at Romania, who was still wearing his coat from the ceremony. He was working on undressing by undoing the buttons on the ornate garment.  
  
Prussia said, watching the man working off the clothing, “You know, there was a time that my little brother wanted to get married.”   
Romania paused at what he was doing and said, “Ludwig?”   
Prussia shook his head, “No, Maximilian when he was alive.”   
  
He paused for a moment and ran his finger around the edge of his glass. It had been such a long time since he had revisited these memories. He remembered that he had been skeptical of the idea at the time. Romania responded as he took his coat the rest of the way off, “I don’t think Ludwig seems like the marrying type.”  
  
Prussia shook his head, but did not respond quite yet. Germany had only been a country on his own for a few years; he was not ready for a commitment like that. The other continued, saying as he sat on the couch next to Prussia, “But, neither did you. But, here you are with me.”   
  
Prussia didn’t object when Romania put his head on his shoulder. It was nice to touch someone who was not related to him after so many years of devoting his energy to raising Germany. Romania planted a soft kiss on his cheek and said, “I’m happy I was wrong about you.”   
  
Prussia continued with his thought, “Maximilian wanted to marry one of Rome’s heirs and heal the division between our family and Rome’s.”   
  
He realized that he wasn’t sure why he was bringing any of this up. It was the last time he had spoken to anyone about marriage. Romania leaned against him, and said, “How ironic that you are doing that now.”   
  
Prussia turned to look at him with undisguised shock. He had no idea what he was talking about. He didn’t bother to mention that this was sharing a royal house, which was not necessarily a marriage. But, he was doing that with Romania, not with Italy, who was Rome’s heir.   
  
He said, “What do you mean?”   
  
Romania flashed him an impish smile that showed one of his curiously sharp canine teeth. He replied, brushing a piece of his hair out of his face, “Did you not know that I am Rome’s son too? Feliciano isn’t the only one.”   
  
Prussia had never really questioned Rome’s bloodline. He had been raised in a monastery where the history of Rome had barely been worth mentioning. He looked at Romania again, taking in his features for the first time. He didn’t look much like Italy, but Prussia could concede that he didn’t look much like his father either. He replied, “I did not know.”   
  
Romania reached over and took the glass of wine out of his hand, like sharing was such a natural thing to do. He took a drink of it before saying, “Most people don’t. I speak a form of his language, and yet they forget.”   
  
Prussia didn’t comment that perhaps it was better than being known as Rome’s bastard as Spain was. It didn’t seem appropriate. But, he did laugh a little, and say, “How many children did he have? How did he have time for all of that with his conquests?”   
  
Romania took another drink of wine. Prussia noticed the slight red stain it left on his lips. Romania spoke again, “The two went hand in hand, I think. He didn’t just love tanned Mediterranean beauties. Everywhere he went he found a woman that he wanted.”   
  
He moved his shoulders conspicuously to be even more firmly against Prussia’s chest. He continued as the albino contemplated if he should make space between them, or allow this affection to continue. He had missed it in all these years. Romania kept talking,   
  
“But that didn’t mean they always wanted him back. I have heard that he was fascinated with Britannia from the moment he saw her. He thought she was bold and striking, with her emerald eyes and her hair like flame.   
  
But, she never returned the feeling. She would rather have ridden into battle against him than ever be in his bed. My mother said that he began to fear the way that she would appear on the battlefield painted blue, and full of fury.   
  
He cold never completely win against her, so he drove her as far North as he could and built a wall to protect himself from her wrath. As far as I know, none of her sons are my half-brothers, though Rome may have wanted them to be. Even the biggest empire in the world couldn’t always have what he wanted.  
  
I have heard that Gaul reviled him too, and would have driven him from her land if she could have. But, my mother always said that she thought that there was affection there once. Before Cesar invaded with his legions, they worked together.   
  
She always wondered if there had been flirtation before the war, and if he had another son with Gaul. He never would have acknowledged a Gaulish son, so it is hard to know.   
But, I have heard that in some Swiss cantons people speak their own version of Latin. So, perhaps Gaul was keeping her own secret from her time with Rome. Your father may have known the answer to that for sure. I think Gaul was his cousin, or something like that. Your family confuses me.  
  
I do know that she fought Cesar with everything she could. I am sure that my father could get nothing more from her once she was conquered territory.  
  
I know my mother’s story the best, since she told it to me herself when I was young. She was called Dacia, and she fought under the banner of a wolf-dragon. It had the body of a dragon and the head of a wolf. I can draw it for you, if you want to see it. It was quite the powerful image.  
  
She was one of the strongest people I have ever known, and I am sure my father knew it too. For so long they had a treaty, and he would visit my mother in peace. She told me that what he said to her was, ‘You are a wolf in the skin of a woman. I would be a fool to bring you into my house as a wife. You will never be that tame.’  
  
Perhaps he did not want the entanglement, but at least he knew her strength. She always said that his ambition was the reason that their relationship did not last. His thirst for territory was never sated long.  
  
After a time, a treaty was not enough, and he wanted to control her completely. And eventually he did win. She moved to the lands just beyond his domains with the Scythians and the the Slavs rather than living with him. I was raised with them, and Ukraine still wants to claim that my little brother is a Slav like them.  
  
As long as I could remember, she hated him for his betrayal, and his false promises. I don’t think he ever knew about me, because she did not want him to treat me like his other bastards. Or maybe she also worried that if he had known, he would have taken me from her.   
  
I don’t know which one worried her more, but she wanted to raise me herself, and I could not have asked for a better childhood. She was sure that I knew about my father though.  
When I was a little boy, she would take my hands and say to me, ‘Romulus is your father, but you should never expect anything from him. He will never be a father to you, and you will only find disappointment if you expect him to be.’”  
  
Romania paused for a moment, and then added, “I suppose that is why no one knows. I don’t ask to be seen as his heir.”   
  
Prussia put one arms around his shoulders and said, “My father was never much of a father either. But, I don’t think we need them.” Romania smiled fully, showing how sharp his teeth really looked. He snuggled appreciatively against the arm.   
  
He peered up through his eyelashes in a way that seemed to be flirtatious and said, “Now that we’re married, we have each other.”   
Prussia sighed, but did not remove his arm. He corrected, as gently as he could, “We aren’t married. I gave you a king because we have a common enemy.” 

  
Romania replied, “Yes, Erzsebet.”   
He spoke Hungary’s name with an edge of anger. Prussia corrected again, “Roderich.”

Romania gave him one more kiss on the cheek and said, “Yes, him too.” 


End file.
